


The Fall

by quartzguts



Series: Sincerely, [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Denial of Feelings, Emotional Manipulation, Falling In Love, Love Letters, M/M, POV Ardyn Izunia, Violent Thoughts, seriously ardyn thinks some fucked up things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22147498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quartzguts/pseuds/quartzguts
Summary: The prince is actually prettier than Ardyn had initially thought. He looks less like the airbrushed picture-perfect darling that appears in magazines and newspapers and more like an ordinary man who had the good fortune of being born to a family with notoriously attractive genes. Ardyn's eyes catch on the hollow of his throat and the suppleness of his muscles, and idly thinks that he could use a personal stylist to dress him in something more flattering than sweatpants and an old t-shirt.Companion fic to Dearest.
Relationships: Ardyn Izunia/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Series: Sincerely, [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592224
Comments: 6
Kudos: 122





	The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> i've had this idea in my head since november and just didn't write it til now. whoo!  
> i've always been dissatisfied with how I portrayed ardyn's changing feelings in dearest, so this is my attempt to fix that lol. it's just dearest, but with ardyn's pov  
> to anyone new: hi! this fic won't really make sense without the first one. i suggest you read dearest before reading the fall.

Ardyn glances over the final draft, tapping his pen against his desk. It’s short, and perhaps a little too strong, but he has a fairly high level of confidence that Noctis will receive it well. The boy must be ever so lonely, cooped up in his too-large apartment for days on end with nothing to do. He finished public schooling a week ago, and Ardyn knows he must be positively _stewing_ by now. There’s no better time to send the letter then today. Ardyn has never been a nervous man when it comes to matters of love, so he spritzs the letter with the cologne he'd picked up earlier that day, seals the envelope with nary a final glance, and slips it into his pocket.

Insomnia is a disgusting little city, he thinks as he strolls through it on his way to Noctis's apartment. He could simply shadowwalk there, but there's no fun in that. He likes to take his time looking at the city his dead brother built, and laugh at its hypocrisy.

A symbol of strength in times of war. The last bastion of Lucian defense. A prison the Crown citizens have willingly subjected themselves to, living their entire lives behind gilded gates and locks tied with pretty ribbon, accepting ignorance of the world outside in favor of the safety their king provides. And yet, in the poorer neighborhoods of the city's underbelly, Kingsglaive and refugees live in squalor, spat on by the upper class Insomnians. Giving up their culture, their dignity, and their freedoms just for the sake of escaping a never ending war.

What a delightfully two-faced place. Ardyn thinks it's a perfect tribute to his brother's legacy.

Noctis's apartment is one of the nicer ones downtown has to offer. It's far enough from the Citadel that the wayward prince can pretend at having independence, yet close enough that the Crownsguard can respond quickly if anything happens. Ardyn grins as he sweeps into an alleyway next to the apartment - it's free of homeless and swept clean of trash, likely for the sake of the prince's _delicate sensibilities_ \- and steps into the shadows.

His warping capabilities have long since become twisted by the Scourge creeping in his veins. He no longer has to summon a weapon to do it, merely steps into the shadows and lets the darkness carry him wherever he bids it to. Ardyn sweeps through the alley and in through a backdoor to the building, easily bypassing the guards meant to protect the prince, and finds himself at the stairwell. He doesn't let up the shadowy disguise; at present, all the security cameras will pick up is a slight distortion, which can be easily explained as a bit of dust getting stuck to the lens. If they were to catch the chancellor of Niflheim on their tapes, though, that would be a different matter entirely.

It takes hardly any time at all to get to the door of Noctis's apartment. Ardyn is almost concerned for his safety; Verstael's lab is equipped with a sensor that detects all unauthorized visitors through the DNA traces they leave behind. He'd thought Noctis's apartment building would have a similar security system, but it seems not. Does King Regis really care so little for his son? If so, Ardyn will have to keep a closer eye on Noctis. It would be a shame if an assassin managed to kill the poor prince before he was able to give Ardyn what he wants.

He slips the letter under the door and retreats to a shadow at the end of the hall. Almost instantly, the door swings open, and Noctis is peering out into the corridor, clutching the letter in his hands.

The prince is actually prettier than Ardyn had initially thought. He looks less like the airbrushed picture-perfect darling that appears in magazines and newspapers and more like an ordinary man who had the good fortune of being born to a family with notoriously attractive genes. For a brief moment, Ardyn considers that he looks a little bit like Somnus, which could present a problem. Luckily, Noctis's features are softer, and his physique is lithe and small. Ardyn's eyes catch on the hollow of his throat and the suppleness of his muscles, and idly thinks that he could use a personal stylist to dress him in something more flattering than sweatpants and an old t-shirt.

Noctis is gone as quick as he came, stepping back into his apartment and shutting the door. Ardyn is tempted to step into his rooms and watch him open the letter, but decides against it. The anticipation is half the fun; will Noctis keep the letter to himself, or involve his guard dogs? Will Ardyn have to lay low and avoid the police tomorrow? He thinks not. He knows Noctis's type, has seduced a few of them over the years; shy, pure children of royals and nobles, eager to escape their duties and fall into the arms of a handsome rogue.

He returns to the haunt he'd selected for himself a few days prior. It's a small apartment in the slums, decent enough by Ardyn's standards- there are no rats or mold, at the very least. The furniture is a bit old, and the security is almost non-existent what with the broken lock on the front door, but it's not as if Ardyn has anything of value to store here. The previous occupant had graciously given it up when confronted with Ardyn's daemonic face. Insomnians have such weak dispositions, truly.

Ardyn settles in to wait for tomorrow. He lies back on the frameless mattress and closes his eyes, chuckling as he imagines what the prince must be thinking right now. If he's correct, dear Noctis should be confused, perhaps off kilter, but not scared, and certainly not repulsed. He'll be intrigued enough to allow Ardyn to send another letter. And if he isn't - well, this is only one plan among many. Ardyn has had endless years to think of ways to torment the Chosen. If this doesn't work, he'll just try something else.

Maybe he'll go with the one where he kidnaps the prince's friends and infects them with the Scourge. Or the one where he corrupts Noctis himself and forces him to fight his beloved Lunafreya. Ardyn yawns. Decisions, decisions. Being the devil is such busy work.

His breaths even out, but he does not sleep. There's no point to it anymore, when his dreams are always filled with the cold, lonely chill of Angelgard and the steel of Somnus's sword.

Maybe he'll go with one of the more violent plans regardless of how Noctis reacts. He'll decide tomorrow.

\---

The next day is spent crafting the second letter. He'd have written them in advance, but he's found that they come across as more genuine if he writes them on the fly. In this one, he includes instructions for Noctis to signal his interest. To be honest, Ardyn isn’t sure if Noctis will take the bait or not, but he’s leaning heavily towards it being the former. The prince hasn’t alerted the Crownsguard - he’d stopped by their offices earlier in the day, just to check - and the last letter hadn’t ended up in the dumpsters behind his building, so he’s at the very least intrigued. Ardyn spends the day idly, walking through the streets of Lucis, frowning at the pins-and-needles sensation of the sunlight on his skin. After two thousand years in darkness he’d been eager to return to the world of light, only to find that the sun burns his skin and makes the Scourge in his veins itch. It’s a fitting curse for a man once hailed as the King of Light.

He delivers the letter in the middle of the afternoon. Once again, Noctis opens the door to his apartment, and Ardyn watches him from the shadows. The prince pouts, disappointed at not having caught his ‘admirer’ in the act of delivery. Ardyn’s left brow raises. He hadn’t been expecting such a blatant display of interest from the infamous “ice prince.”

To his further shock, the sign appears on the balcony not fifteen minutes later. It’s a scarf, meant for the heavier winter season, and Noctis lingers on the balcony for only a few minutes before he unties the thing and takes it back inside. A dark grin splits Ardyn’s face. Perhaps he’ll be able to move his timeline forward a bit. He’s been planning on romancing the prince for around six months, but it might be possible to achieve what he wants in even less time that that. Four, maybe? Three? Certainly not two.

Of course, what he _wants_ is to swoop Noctis up like a fairy tale princess and abscond with him back to Niflheim, where he’ll keep him as a pet, humiliated but too hopelessly in love with his captor to leave. A more realistic version of beauty and the beast, where the horrible monster takes the beauty captive and never, ever lets go. The beauty, pure of heart and unable to accept that no love will ever be enough to cure a monster, cannot help but hold on tighter even as their lover’s claws rip them apart. Ardyn imagines Noctis like that, pitiful and stupid in his love, and laughs.

He ends the day with cheap convenience store wine in a plastic cup. He toasts to Somnus’s statue in Founder’s Park, then tosses the cup aside into the grass. He hopes it rots the earth it rests on.

\---

He spends a few days crafting the next letter. This one is longer than the other two, and includes a little bit of personal “information.” Ardyn excels in lies and deceit, and like all good conmen knows that the best lies are born of truth. For that purpose, he weaves a tale that isn’t too inaccurate; he _had been_ thirty-three when he was infected, he is regrettably still Lucian, and indeed his first seven months spent in Niflheim were under guard with Verstael watching his every move. He has a little laugh at denying his own noble heritage, and throws in a few compliments on Noctis’s figure.

Those aren’t lies. He’s been doing research on Noctis for a while now, and while he still prefers the idea of him dressed in rags and kneeling, he _did_ look lovely at last weekend’s charity gala. Ardyn can scarcely believe Regis let him out looking like that. The boy is gorgeous. Were it two thousand years ago and Ardyn still human, he would have introduced Noctis to Aera and asked if he could become their shared concubine.

He drops the letter off in the late afternoon. Noctis doesn’t appear at the door, which has Ardyn frowning. His expression deepens when he hears the lock click. Has he been too forward? Or is Noctis merely learning not to expect to see Ardyn when he checks the hall?

Ardyn goes to the balcony to await his prince. It takes thirty minutes, until the sun is nearing its descent into the horizon, before the door slams open. Noctis bolts out in a hurry, and ties the scarf with such ferocity that Ardyn wonders if the garment managed to offend him somehow.

The shadows are growing longer, so Ardyn steps further into them, circling around to look at Noctis’s face. The boy looks miserable, eyebrows knit and mouth tight lipped, but as Ardyn watches in hateful fascination, his features smooth out, and he shudders. It’s full body, a pleasurable gesture, and Ardyn resists the urge to reach out a finger and run it up the length of Noctis’s spine. He keeps staring out over the sunset, eyes darting about the city below him, as the sun sinks deeper and deeper behind the skyscrapers. Only when the night has overtaken the day does he untie the scarf and slip back inside.

Ardyn stays there for a while longer, an unfamiliar feeling brewing in his chest. He only leaves when the sun is rising again, and the pain returns to remind him just who and what he is.

\---

He waits five days before sending the next letter. He’d written it shortly after Noctis had accepted his offer of two-way communication, but with how obviously desperate he is Ardyn thought it best to let him stew for a while. This time is the real gamble; will Noctis have the moxie to go out into the city at a stranger’s behest, or not? Ardyn has intentionally given him little time to decide. Noctis has only about an hour to make his decision, accounting for the time it will take for him to walk from his apartment to Founder’s Park. Ardyn had chosen the location partially for a laugh, and partially in the hope that his dear brother will bear witness to Ardyn flawlessly seducing his descendant.

Ardyn stands around in the shadows, yet again, waiting for Noctis to arrive. He is surprised once more when Noctis shows his face only ten minutes after the alloted hour begins, a messenger bag gripped tightly to his chest. The day is awfully unpleasant, dark and rainy. Ardyn wonders if he’d rather Noctis have brought an umbrella to keep him from catching cold, or be without one so Ardyn can see his wet clothes sticking to his skin.

Noctis shivers a bit as he tucks the letter into the bat-house. Instead of collecting the goods himself, Ardyn calls for his little helper within to bring it to him. When Noctis turns his back (and he has the cheek to _warp_ away, the poor thing, what’s got him so terrified of being caught?), the raven sheds its false mammalian form and takes to the sky, the letter gripped in its beak.

Noctis settles down on one of the park benches, the picture of solitude under the tumultuous grey skies, while Ardyn thumbs the letter. He decides not to wait and see what the prince will do; he’s been neglecting his duties back in Niflheim enough as it is, and Verstael will complain to Iedolas if he doesn’t get the growing stack of paperwork in his office done today. Not that Ardyn particularly cares what that fool of an emperor thinks, but it wouldn’t do for rumors to spread that the chancellor is disrespecting his liege.

Well. Any more rumors than there already are, at least.

Ardyn steps into the shadow of an oak tree and, after a brief explosion of darkness, finds himself back in his office. He takes in the mostly bare space, shucks of his coat, and sighs. In the old days, Ardyn would have healer’s tools and potted herbs in every spot of his rooms, books open to important pages and apprentices running about, eager to learn from the master healer himself. Even thirty years ago his spaces had had more personality than this, filled with funny new gadgets and bits of technology Ardyn had found himself fascinated with. Now, he’s gotten rid of most of his old stuff, and is left with only the standard issue desk and chair, along with a redwood bookcase with few old favorites on it.

Maybe he’s getting old? If he is, then it’s about time.

The paperwork is looking less and less appealing by the moment. Ardyn groans dramatically and slouches in his chair, eyeing it with disdain. It’s not like any of it is truly important, anyway. It’s all internal affairs for an empire that will one day fall just as easily as Solheim did. Ardyn cares not for any state matters except for the military, and that he has no direct control over.

Even more distracting is the letter tucked away safely in his pocket, which, with the sweet scent of revenge soon to be served, is much more enticing than reading about water access in Gralea’s third district. He pulls the envelope out, ripping through the top of it with a sharp, daemonic claw, and draws out the letter within.

Noctis’s handwriting is awful. It takes Ardyn’s eyes a second to adjust to them, and he’s reminded of a rather unpleasant conversation he’d once had with Verstael when he’d insisted _no, I certainly don’t need glasses_. He’d thought he could read perfectly well, but apparently the prince of Lucis is out to prove him wrong.

_Dear creepy secret admirer,  
_

Ardyn snorts. He has to give the boy credit for directness.

_Before this goes any further, I need some answers from you. If you don’t completely answer all of my questions, I’m going to tell the Crownsguard about these. Trust me, you don’t want that. Also don’t lie, please._

_First, who are you? If you don’t want to tell me your full name, whatever. But I at least need to know your first name. Second, why do you like me?_

_Third, how are you getting past the guards? You have to have some sort of specialized skill set. I’m assuming you’re a soldier, or a spy._

_Fourth, why can’t we meet face to face? You realize that’s super suspicious, right?_

Ardyn is almost proud of the boy. It’s a decent set of starter questions, all things considered. Ardyn will have to be careful in how he answers them. Give him too little information, and Noctis may follow through with his threat. Give him too much, and Ardyn might scare him off.

He traces the word _please_ with his finger. It’s such a precious detail; the crown prince has had propriety and politeness hammered into him from such a young age he can’t even write to his stalker without including the niceties. It’s adorable.

And quite concerning, Ardyn must admit. How easy would it be for someone else to take advantage of Noctis? The thought leaves his blood boiling. No one else should even _think_ about touching this boy. He is _Ardyn’s_. Ardyn’s to have, Ardyn’s to _kill_.

He barely manages to remember to put on a tone of levity for his response. He wants to scold Noctis for giving into this whole farce so easily, but all that will accomplish is confusing and scaring him. The half-lies come as second nature to him, and he writes most of the letter without bothering to read it over even to check for spelling and grammar mistakes, until he comes to the fourth question. The easiest response is _because I said so_ , but he doubts Noctis will accept such an uncompromising answer.

He goes for something more classic; averting the issue by bringing up sexuality. Noctis will no doubt be distracted enough by the declaration of physical attraction to ignore the non-answer. Before he signs the letter with the next location for Noctis’s response, he adds an unplanned line.

_Search your heart, my dear. You know who I am._

Ardyn stares at it for a while, pondering it. He imagines that, with all the mysticism and airs the gods put on in regards to their prophecies, it _wouldn’t_ be far fetched for Noctis to know who he is, at least on an instinctual level. Ardyn finds, beyond all odds, that there’s a part of him that wants Noctis to figure it out. A part of him that wants Noctis to realize what’s happening and put a stop to it before Ardyn ruins him.

What an utterly repulsive thought.

He waits three days to deliver the letter, out of spite for how the prince has somehow gotten under his skin.

\---

Ardyn gets his response right on time. This time, once Noctis drops of the letter, he doesn’t bother sticking around to see if Ardyn will come pick it up. He just shoves it into the newspaper box and stalks off, his hands firmly in his pockets. He’s dressed in a pullover hoodie, too warm for the weather, and looks like he’s barely slept at all. Ardyn cocks his head at the unexpected reaction. Perhaps he’s been misjudging his responses. By now, Noctis should be feeling giddy and excitable, not _miserable_.

He thinks back to the balcony, where Noctis had looked like he was about to cry. There must be something he’s missing.

He dips his hand into the newspaper box without bothering to hide in shadow. A woman sitting across from him notices, but quickly averts her eyes when he smiles at her. Perhaps she thinks he’s complicit a drug deal of sorts. He doubts she suspects he’s exchanging love letters with the prince.

He opens the letter at a small cafe he’s taken a liking to, sliding the paper out of its envelope while he sips at a cup of flowery tea. He’s hit by a cloud of cologne the moment he opens it, and huffs. Yet another unexpected reaction. Noctis is more the prince of _mixed signals_ than anything else.

_Dear Ardyn,_

_Thanks for actually answering my questions. I wasn’t really expecting that from a creepy stalker. So you’re not too bad, I guess._

_I’m still not opposed to telling the Crownsguard, so don’t try any shit._

_I think you’re completely insane. Soulmates don’t exist. You don’t know me._

_Also what you said about kissing me, you wouldn’t be bothered if I’d never kissed anyone before right? Because if so fuck you._

_Also call me Noct._

Ardyn reads over the letter three times before it really sinks in. Oh. _Oh_.

The poor little prince is purer than he thought.

Of course, he’d expected Noctis to be a virgin. His plan hinged on that fact, really. The line of Lucis simply loves tradition, and forces its old values on all of its scions, no matter how much time passes. _Old_ being a relative term, here. People were looser in Ardyn’s day. The obsession with royal purity only really came about once the council banned concubines and decided bastards weren’t supposed to exist.

But this… Ardyn hadn’t expected him to be this pent up, this _touch starved_. The world has changed in the past thirty years especially, and Regis had let his son attend public school and get a part time job. Ardyn thought _for sure_ Noctis would’ve at least kissed someone by now, even if it was only during a game of spin the bottle or on a dare.

Evidently that was not the case. It certainly explains Noctis’s irrational moods. This is all so very alien to him. Wanting, being wanted; Noctis has never experienced it at all. And with modern society’s brand new obsession with sex and pushing it onto absolutely everyone, Ardyn can imagine he feels terribly insecure about it.

The poor thing. Ardyn almost feels guilty for taking away Noctis’s chance at having his first relationship with someone who actually cares about him.

He goes home and writes the next letter more carefully than the last. He starts it with _my dearest Noct_ , another cute little quirk that manages to make Ardyn uncomfortable, as it reminds him of just how immature Noctis is. He’s using a _nickname._ Good gods.

_I’m afraid I may have come on too strong in my previous letters. I apologize if my words have caused you any distress. I can’t imagine the things you’ve missed out on because of your status. I only wish I can rectify this horrid situation as quickly as possible, my dear._

_I wish to reiterate what I have already said; I love you, and wish to accept the whole truth of who you are. If you are inexperienced, fear not. I will not laugh at you for it._

_Now, if you do not mind, I wish to ask some questions of my own. Namely, what do you do when you are not busy being the prince of Lucis? What are your hobbies? What makes you smile? My heart aches for you, dear. I want only to soothe some of your worries, if I can._

He writes out another location, with a more convenient time of one in the afternoon, and folds the letter carefully. He’ll deliver it tomorrow, he decides. There’s no need to make Noctis wait any longer.

He has him now. Hook, line, and sinker.

\---

They spend the next week sending letters back and forth almost every day. Ardyn keeps his drop off times to the mid day, when he knows Noctis will be awake, but occasionally delivers his own letters late at night or early in the morning for variety’s sake. He learns many things that his prior research had not revealed to him. For example, Noctis likes video games and comic books. There’s an arcade downtown he used to visit almost weekly in high school. He’s trying to learn how to cook, with mixed results. He indulges in his favorite pastime, fishing, at a leisure club near his apartment building. He likes combat training, despite how much he complains about it. He’s also indescribably nervous about taking up his royal duties in just a few months.

Ardyn tries to give him as much relevant advice as he can without spoiling that he was, in fact, once a king, if only for about two hours. Noctis seems more suited for the position that he realizes. He’s intelligent, compassionate, and when he actually stops to think things through he can come up with quick and smart solutions to his nation’s problems. It’s a shame, Ardyn muses one afternoon over a glass of wine, that Noctis will end up kneeling in front of the throne instead of sitting upon it.

That’s when the idea hits him. The Lucian throne is for Ardyn, naturally, but there is yet another that Noctis has claim to. Ardyn and Somnus were descendants of the nobility of Solheim, already long gone from the world when they were born. Niflheim mimics that old empire in its magitek and spite towards the gods. Noctis could feasibly claim birthright to the throne of Solheim’s successor nation. The idea grips him and refuses to let go, and when Ardyn lets himself daydream while his assistant stacks ever more paperwork on his desk, he thinks about Noctis in red and gold, sitting in Iedolas’s chair, with Ardyn standing at his side. Ardyn running a hand over his cheek, down to cup his chin, guiding him closer. Noctis’s lips parting ever so slightly, his cheeks coloring red. Ardyn kissing him. Claiming him.

He shudders and tries to force himself to get back to work. The Scourge dislikes these daydreams, grumbling at the lack of death and blood, and Ardyn agrees that they are a waste of time and thought. Noctis’s pretty face will be his downfall unless he’s careful. The brat is a means to an end, nothing more. He’d do best not to forget it.

He drops by Insomnia later that day to pick up Noctis’s most recent response. He’s closed this one out with a cheeky _you seem to really like my body, huh? Maybe I should send you some private pictures ;)_ followed by an immediate _just kidding lol!_

Ardyn nearly keels over in the middle of the street. This _brat_. Screw what the Scourge wants. When Ardyn takes Noctis away, the first thing he’s going to do is carry him right to Niflheim’s vacant throne, plop him down, and kiss him senseless.

\---

Nearly a week after Noctis revealed why he’s so nervous about this entire affair, he demands that Ardyn download some phone app and play a game with him. Ardyn first goes to procure a cell phone from a decently high end tech store with a very helpful employee, then fumbles through its store app and downloads a game called _King’s Knight._ The first thing he thinks when he completes the tutorial mode and learns about the tactical battle system the game uses is _Gilgamesh would have liked this._

Damn. He’s been getting horridly sentimental lately.

He asks Noctis questions about the game which he thinks are completely fair, but which Noctis replies to with smug amusement. After he gets a letter explaining what each of the game’s abbreviations mean in detail, a little ping sounds in the notifications bar, and Ardyn finds that user princecharmless has sent him a gift of in game currency.

Ardyn stares at the screen, mildly offended. Screw what he thought before about his time period being loose, at least then people _knew_ how to court correctly. The person being chased does _not_ buy gifts for their suitor. Ardyn should be the one showering Noctis with gifts and affection, not the other way around. He’s positively furious that Noctis cut him to the chase. As revenge for the unwanted gift, he adds a few sensual lines about what he’d like to do to Noctis once they finally meet in his response.

Hopefully it isn’t too forward, but with Noctis practically _threatening_ to send him nude photographs in some of his letters, how can Ardyn resist?

Ardyn spends three whole weeks trying to find a suitable gift for Noctis. He considers buying him a video game, or a small trinket. Something that can fit into the envelope. Ardyn refuses to buy Noctis a digital gift; he will _not_ be outdone by a bratty little prince.

It’s harder than he imagines to find something he thinks Noctis will like. Ardyn thinks back to the other pure darlings he’s seduced over the years, mostly out of boredom. He never spent long selecting gifts for them; some jewelry, a bound journal, sometimes lingerie if they were far enough along into the courtship. He can’t remember ever being so unsure and _nervous_ before. This whole business must be clouding his head more than he realizes.

In the end, he settles on a gift that will, unfortunately, require a box. He’ll have to leave it in front of the door instead of sliding it into the apartment. It’s a small creation kit for fishing lures. The product is of decent quality, and is made for those fishing in the outdoors beyond Insomnia’s wall, so no doubt they will serve Noctis well when he fishes for the carefully selected specimens available within the walls of a gym.

Ardyn dresses the box simply, with a black ribbon tied around it. The letter tucked under the bow includes an apology for being so late to give something back. He sets the box gently on the ground, turns tangible for just long enough to knock on the door, and then slips back into the darkness.

Noctis calls “ _coming!_ ” from inside, and a few minutes later the door opens. He gasps when he sees the box, then grins. It’s such an absolutely adorable expression that Ardyn just _has_ to follow him into the apartment to watch his reaction.

He enjoys the gift, to say the least. He opens and reads the letter first, then sets it aside and opens the box. Noctis takes his time unpacking the set, looking over everything all while biting the smile on his lips.

Ardyn has to hold in a snort of amusement. He’s about to leave when Noctis picks up the letter once more.

“I have a boyfriend, don’t I,” Noctis murmurs, eyes half lidded. “I can’t believe it. Someone actually _likes_ me. Ardyn _likes_ me!” He holds the letter close to his chest as his eyes flutter shut. Like he’s imagining holding Ardyn instead.

Ardyn leaves, disturbed.

\---

Ardyn reads Noctis’s written response to the gift in his bedroom late the next night. He’d been so busy today, he’d scarcely had time to visit Insomnia, pick up the damn thing, and return to Niflheim. As a daemon, he doesn’t tire easily, but an entire day spent listening to whiny complaints from his subordinates and being lectured on _sensitivity_ by _Verstael_ of all people has a tendency to make one want to throw themselves into a fortress of pillows and scream.

Alas, Ardyn has a responsibility to Noctis. He fears if he fails to deliver a letter tomorrow, his prince will worry. He cuts open the envelope and brings out the letter, lighting a few candles by his bedside to illuminate the words.

_Dear Ardyn,_

_Thanks for the lure set. Like, really, it’s great. I’ve spent the past few hours just messing with it, I had no idea making my own lures would be this fun._

_Sorry if this sounds selfish, but I’m starting to feel a little guilty over this whole thing? Like, I know you really love me a lot, and I’m worried that I don’t feel the same way. I like you and all, I really, really like you, but I don’t know if it’s love. I think I might just be using you for a thrill. Gods that sounds horrible. I’m really sorry._

_I just read that part over and realized this sounds like I’m breaking up with you and I’m not I promise! But I care about you a lot and don’t want to hurt you, so if what I can give you isn’t enough please tell me. You mean a lot to me, you’re like the only thing in my life that isn’t falling to pieces right now and I don’t want to lose you._

_Sorry, this letter’s a mess, but it’s three am right now and I’m really tired. I wish I could kiss you for real. I’ve been kissing your letters and imagining it, but it’s not the same._

_I’m not going to look over this in the morning I’m too embarrassed so if this is incomprehensible I’m sorry._

_Love_ ~~_Noct_~~

He’s crossed out his name, probably trying to keep to the anonymity Ardyn had suggested over over a month ago. He reads through the letter again, his eyes catching on phrases like _I really, really like you_ and _you mean a lot to me_ and _I don’t want to lose you_.

Ardyn has not been cherished in such a way for a long, long time. Those who he’s taken to bed after long nights of illicit conversation and brushing hands at official functions forgot about him easily, preferring to return to their comfortable positions and marry someone less dangerous than the Chancellor. Verstael was interested in his body for reasons other than science, once, but that passion quickly died as he was promoted again and again by the emperor. Noctis is a fool, Ardyn thinks angrily, a stupid, young, insolent fool. What right does the blood of a man who took everything away from Ardyn have to say such things? What right does _Ardyn_ , a man more monster than human, have to enjoy them?

Half out of curiosity and half out of hysteria, he presses his lips to the letter. It’s a stupid sentiment, but it makes his dead heart thud all the same. What drivel. What utter _nonsense_. Ardyn makes up his mind then and there. When he takes Noctis from Insomnia, he will chain him and bind him and treat him so grossly that Noctis will regret having ever been chosen at all.

At least, he tries to make up his mind. The thought of Noctis bloody and teary eyed no longer brings him pleasure, but instead has his face growing tight in a grimace and his hands shaking. The Scourge growls, displeased, and Ardyn sits up late into the night, staring at the letter, feeling like he’s back in Angelgard and Somnus is smirking at him from on high, Aera’s corpse at his feet.

\---

He does not think through his responses for the next month. He doesn’t buy Noctis anything else, either. They flirt, they laugh, they share secret words with one another and all the while Ardyn pays mind to none of it. He catches up on his paperwork, is kinder to his subordinates if only to avoid another lecture, and is generally a perfect, loyal Chancellor. In the darkness, he rallies the military, reaches out to the connections he’s made over the years - a woman he’d once made love to, a man who’s daughter he’d cured of an illness, the works - and arranges a coup. Iedolas is none the wiser, an old man blinded by his lust for power, and Ardyn smiles and promises him the world while conspiring to steal it all away from him and give it to some Lucian brat.

He still doesn’t know why he doesn’t just return to the drawing board and pull up one of the plans that pleases the Scourge. Even thinking of doing so has him gasping for breath, his heart momentarily refusing to work, so he moves on without entertaining the idea. He knows some of his acquaintances are noticing something is different with him. Verstael eyes him more carefully when he visits the labs. Commodore Aranea had asked him if he was _sick_ the last time she’d seen him. Sick. _Him_. It was a funny thought, so he'd laughed and assuaged her concerns.

In the end, though, it’s Ravus who confronts him about all of it.

The High Commander visits him at his manor, uninvited, wearing casual clothing. Ardyn raises an eye at him and lets him in for tea. As they sit, Ardyn chatters on about idle things, waiting for Ravus to bring up his reason for coming here for the first time in the many years they’ve known one another.

Finally, the Nox Fleuret boy clears his throat. “Chancellor, there is something I wanted to discuss with you.”

Ardyn smiles pleasantly. “Anything, Commander.”

“Sure,” Ravus mutters. “I will be frank. I have agreed to go along with this plan of yours, but I still must know _why_ you are doing it in the first place.”

“Why? Surely you know, dear Ravus, that our esteemed emperor is of failing health, and for the empire’s future it is necessary to -”

“If you are going to bullshit me I will leave,” Ravus says flatly. “Something about you has changed recently. I want to know what.”

Ardyn should lie, but something about _those eyes_ and _that accent_ make it sound like it’s Aera who’s imploring him to tell the truth. He’s giving in before he even realizes it. “I have found someone more worthy of the throne and my assistance than Iedolas, is all.”

He thinks he's slick about it, but apparently not, because Ravus balks. “Some… one? Chancellor, are you - are you _in love_?”

“What a disgusting accusation,” Ardyn says, but he doesn’t deny it. Godsdamn it all, he’s gone and let the little brat seduce him, hasn’t he?

“And this person would be…?” Ravus asks, seemingly out of morbid curiosity.

“No one of your concern. Merely a noble individual I believe would be well suited to ruling the empire.”

Ravus’s eyes narrow. “Noble - ? Chancellor, I warn you, if you are talking about my sister -”

“Worry not, Ravus. It is not Lunafreya that I speak of. Although he is somewhat like her, I suppose…”

Ravus squeezes his teacup so hard it shatters all over his hands. He doesn’t react to either his quickly reddening skin or the fact that the tea will definitely drip onto Ardyn’s carpet and stain it. “You’re talking about Noctis, aren’t you. Good gods, man, you have worse taste than I thought possible.”

Ardyn doesn’t bother seeing him to the door. Instead he sits in his arm chair for some time, then picks up a pen, and begins writing in earnest.

\---

_My darling Noct,_

_I’m afraid you have me at a loss. Here I thought I could not be more enamored, but you have proven to be even more of a gem that I had initially realized. Please accept my apologies for not having realized what a treasure you are earlier. You deserve far better than simple letters and the occasional late night raid quest._

_I would very much like to meet you in person, if you are amenable. I can arrange for a location as quickly as tomorrow. If you say yes, though, I warn you; I may not be able to keep my hands to myself._

_Merely leave your response in the hallway this time, sweetheart. I’ll pick it up between three and four pm tomorrow._

\---

_Dear Ardyn,_

_Wow, I was starting to wonder when you were going to suggest this. I really want to meet you, too._

_Sorry, I want to write more, but I guess I’m just so excited. And we’ll be able to talk in person soon, so it’s kind of a moot point? I guess before we meet I just want to say thank you. Before this summer started I thought I was just going to be miserable and anxious the whole time but you’ve made it really fun._

_I wish this could last forever._

\---

The Crownsguard must find out the next day. They’re swarming all over Noctis’s apartment, and Ardyn has to avoid more guards than ever before to get to the prince’s floor. When he finally manages to slip in, Noctis is in the kitchen, eyes trained on the ground as his advisor reads Ardyn’s letters. Noctis looks horrible, tense and angry, just like he had back when they first started this mess. Ardyn doesn’t stick around to hear the specifics of their conversation. He sweeps out of the apartment as silently as he’d came, the Scourge strangely quiet. His head is clear for the first time in months. Seeing Noctis like that again has reminded him of what he needs to do. He will put Noctis on the Niflheimr throne, yes. And when the time is right and Noctis is good and pliant, he will give Ardyn exactly what he wants, and he will suffer for it.

He visits Noctis in his dreams not long after, playing the disinterested role well. These pesky feelings are a waste, he knows. He must ignore them. Nothing can come between him and his revenge.

He’s lost too much. Lost his home, lost his fiancée, lost his life.

He can handle losing Noctis, too.

\---

“You little brat. I will destroy everything you hold dear,” Ardyn hisses, but Noctis has the gall to look _fond._

“No, you won't.” Noctis takes a step forward and presses himself up against Ardyn, slinging his arms around his neck. Without thinking, Ardyn leans closer, eager to share his space. “You love me.”

He can’t. He _can’t_ give in. He can’t let the gods win. “My dear, were you really fooled by those meaningless platitudes? I'm sorry to tell you this, but -”

“Shut up. You can’t deny your own feelings. You _love_ me. We’re soulmates.” Ardyn vaguely remembers having mentioned something to that effect in his early letters. It’s a line he’s used before, mostly because it’s usually effective. It’s never been enough to _actually convince someone that a soul bond exists_ , though. Before he knows it, Ardyn is wrapping his arms around Noctis and pulling them closer together.

He keeps protesting. He’s not sure exactly what he says, the Scourge screaming and kicking at this turn of events, demanding to know where the violence is, when the slaughter is coming. He jolts out of it when Noctis kisses his chest, and even further when Noctis cups his face. “Ardyn. I know it’s hard. You’ve suffered for so long, you’ve spent _so long_ in the dark, feeling nothing but hate and despair. We’re bonded whether you like it or not, and I’m giving you a choice: you can keep wallowing in self pity, or you can let me bring you back into the light. You can let me _help you._ Please.”

It’s too good. It’s too good for him, more than he deserves, something the gods will not permit him to have. And yet they aren’t striking him and Noctis down right now; Shiva hasn’t appeared to freeze him to death, Ramuh hasn’t destroyed the entire Citadel with a bolt of divine lightning. Bahamut hasn’t appeared in Aera’s skin to tear through his soul once more. “How do you expect to purge your star of its scourge without killing me?” he asks, not really caring about the answer.

Noctis has the cheek to grin, the little shit, and replies, “I have to purify your darkness with my light. Seems easy enough.”

Easy. Nothing about this will be easy. It will not be _easy_ to convince Regis that Noctis is offering a genuine peace. It will not be _easy_ to stave off the wrath of the gods when they realize their bloodlust will go unfulfilled. It will not be easy for Ardyn to accept love again.

It won’t be easy. But it could be worth it.


End file.
